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Nightmares and Wonderland - Prologue

Annabelle was a beautiful doll. Upon her mass of deep purple hair sat a rich red bow, and her dress seemed to be made of gossamer, or perhaps a humble spider's webbing. Nevertheless, she was delicate and mysterious, the incarnation of every woman's silent dreams.But unlike many of the women of this world, Annabelle has been forever shadowed by tears and bloodshed, which in turn always falls upon her kind and loving keepers. None of these innocents knew how Annabelle came to creation, nor could any hear her tinkling voice, forever whispered in warning. That is until one child, young and imaginative, came upon her. But that is not the story for today, though it is one that shall be told in the process of time. This is the story of Alice Liddell, the hated child of a wicked, unloving Queen.

At the age of 12, Alice Liddell had never been outside her family's estate, nor had she ever seen the world that existed there. Her father was often travelling, being the owner of a successful merchant business, selling his cargo along the rich coastlines of the Pacific Ocean. Her sister, Lizzie, accompanied their father on these journeys, but Alice always remained home to keep her mother company. Yet no matter how far her she could have travelled, her mother was forever out of reach.Given her lack of knowledge of the outside world, Alice frequented the garden's, primarily the beautiful red anthurium that reminded her so of the queen's burning heart. When she was not in the gardens exploring, she locked herself in the play-room with her beloved toys. And she could always feel the presence of her mother, sitting in her armchair in the library, never reading, never writing, simply looking out upon her red roses, in another world.Alice loved the library, but took great pains to avoid her mother, lest she be scolded, or worse. She would wait until the last lamp in the house had been doused, and creep out of the nursery, Annabelle in hand, to the library. The Liddell Library was almost like an extension to the mansion, and though the room itself felt rather grand with its great timber pillars, its large bay window and beautifully engraved runners, the truth was... it was eerie. Perhaps it was simply the amount of wasted time spent in it by her mother, but Alice believed something more sinister to have once have occurred within the library's perfectly kept interior.Indeed, by this time, Annabelle was in the possession of Alice, having been a gift from the child's sister, found on one of her travels with father. It was Alice's only friend and most treasured belonging, and no matter where she went, Annabelle was carefully carried along.

On her nights spent in the library, Alice came upon a treasury of tales, and in her mind, these fantasies came to life. Talking creatures and super-beings with power likened to that of the devil. Alice wondered why her mother kept these books, being herself a devoted child of the Lord, although her father believed deeply in imagination. Nevertheless, as time went by, with only the empty house and her shell of a mother for company, Alice began to weave her own tales...

deviantID

I am currently studying Literature and History in University, aspiring to be an editor/publisher, if not a writer myself. I live for love and I have my hope in the hearts of my best friends and boyfriend. They are the ones who saved me.

Finishing up my third semester at uni. Turns out I could've actually done a WRITING poetry course this time round. Will have to wait that out until next year now. I did take a READING poetry course, same lecturer runs both and now he's out sick, so I'm a little worried. I've loved the course, and learnt so much, come to appreciate poetry so much more than pretty words on paper. And my lecturer/tutor is just so incredibly enthusiastic, safe to say he's my favourite so far.

Not sure how many people still follow my work, more than understandable since it's been almost two months since my last piece, far more since I wrote anything worth looking at. Hoping over the next six weeks of holidays, I might come across something to re-inspire me. Will probably end up being more sappy love crap unless I go somewhere beautiful. I've mostly been going between home, uni and my library for quite a while, occasionally hanging with friends, going to small local bands' concerts.

And I've actually been feeling good. Really good. This last semester has been a lazy one (finishing assignments the day or two beforehand) but I feel like I have improved emotionally and as a person since starting uni and being more sociable (if only among my little group of friends outside uni). Hopefully more to come!

Zoie was the child of Death and Love. Of all Death’s children (and he had many, by many different lovers) Zoie was the most inelegant, wild and fair. Her freeness of spirit did not mean that she was happy, and she grew up lonely and estranged. Her siblings loved her dearly, but so vast were the differences between them. When she came of age, Zoie knew the most of Death, and the least of Love.

At this time, she found she was unsuited for any of the roles her siblings were given. Not a leader in any sense of the word, she was disorganised and hated the confines of a room. But she had great sympathy, and fought well for the sake of innocents.

Alice woke surrounded by trees. Small noises were slowly growing as the moon settled down and the sun poked through the lowest trees on the other side of the grove. As she owned nothing but dresses, the child felt trapped as her skirt entangled her legs, the grogginess of a short, uncomfortable sleep helping little. Despite her mother's treatment, she had endured all the luxuries of wealth, and certainly never slept on a cold dirt floor. Her doll, Annabelle, lay a few feet from the child, already covered in dead leaves and soil, and as she was picked up and brushed off, she tried to warn her companion against venturing further. Better to just return home, love. Please. As always, her caution went unheard. “Come along Annabelle,” Alice’s voice was bright, hopeful, and unbearably naïve. Not for the first time, Annabelle prayed to whoever was listening that she might one day be heard by her owner, and save them so much pain. ***The girl had brought little food, which might sate her appetite for the morning. Annabelle hoped she knew better than to eat from the forest, but it wouldn’t matter in a few hours regardless. Hunger made people desperate, as she had seen firsthand. She feared what it would do to a child. But for now, Alice was happy, and glowed in her liberation. Every tree was a wonder, the sheer wildness of the outside world a curiosity, compared to the carefully planned and well-tended gardens of home.

They followed the sun until it reached the middle of the sky, and here Alice began to experience the first pangs of hunger. This was quickly followed by fear, with the sounds of harsh footsteps echoing from the shadows.